My eyes were closed in the dark room. My fingertips were together, my elbows resting on my knees. Inside, I was keeping a beat. Beep. Step forward. Beep. Hold my sleeve. Beep. Wave the fan right. Beep. Wave the fan left. Beep. Repeat. Beep. Repeat. Beep. Turn, turn, turn, three-hundred and sixty degrees. Beep. Fan pointed to the floor.

The elegant sakura dance. One of the first I'd learned as a child. My teacher, a patient older woman, smiling down at me. So pleased with me, her excited pupil. I was enchanted with the dance and the music.

Beep. Bring the fan up high and touch the end with your opposite hand, held out above of your face, knee bent. Beep. Turn left, and hold your fan out to the left. Beep. Walk in a half circle to the back of the stage. Beep. Turn to the audience, fan out to the left, and cover your mouth with your sleeve. Beep. Bend your knees a little, show that you're demurely laughing behind your sleeve. Beep. Roll your wrists downward, opening yourself up. Beep. Roll them gently upward, above your head. Beep. Bend knee, stomp foot. Beep. Repeat arm movements, and then bend other knee, stepping forward. Beep. Bend that knee more, look to the left, a little upwards, and bring my fan to my out held wrist, resting it there. Beep. My teacher says, "smile, are you at a funeral, Te-chan?" Beep. My teacher says, "you're too serious. This is a joyous dance." Beep. My teacher corrects my form, and tells me to go to the front of the room again, to start again. "Smile this time. I want to believe it. You are a dancer, but also an actor. Do not forget your face."

I am an actor. As I dance on stage, I am acting. No one knew that a lot of it was not an act. They thought, "wow, he acts as a girl so well, I almost believe it. Is he a girl or a boy?" It is in thanks to my old teacher that my movements are so feminine. She taught me the art of being feminine. These elegant wrist movements, how to move slowly, how to flirt with every womanly charm. But, I express them as myself. There is no rulebook about how I feel inside, how I express my own womanly charms.

I imagine that the beeping I hear is a drum. Keeping a beat for me, for my dance. I close my eyes, and there I am. I'm seventeen again, and I'm performing a solo dance on stage during a recital in the little theater in my hometown. I'm wearing a purple kimono, wearing a long, black, straight wig. I styled myself. I'd been styling myself for a long time, fitting my character. These things I had to do. I could not dance without wearing a female kimono, and I had to look the part. I was taught, since I was four years old, how to move this kind of kimono in dance. So, this kind of kimono I wore.

It is in part due to the insistence of my teacher. She was scandalized that I'd try to dance such a feminine dance in a male kimono. My papa protested at first, saying many men danced the same dances. But my teacher had a strong head on her shoulders and refused. So, I began wearing female kimono at the age of four. From there, I began to develop my character in dance.

Sometimes, I wonder if Aurelia is a figment of my imagination. Just a character that I developed in dance. The female me, beside me all the time. Something I was forced to create, or develop over time.

But, if I breath in and close my eyes, and it's as quiet as it is now... I feel a tickle in my belly whenever I think of myself as her alone. I see only her as she dances, not myself. Or maybe, if I stretch my reality a little, she is myself. I see her, twirling her fan upwards as she moves to the left, the vintage styled kimono trailing after her.

I know Aurelia is not the character I presented on stage. I know this in my heart. She is not a yujo, or an oiran, or a geisha, or anything of the kind. She is just a woman. She is me.

It makes my head hurt, trying to think of her this way.

Telling my sister about myself, being non-binary, shifted my thinking. I am almost allowed to think this way now. With my family not knowing, I realized, I could cage myself in. My scared feelings, caging her in like a bird. An excuse to not think of her as anything more than a character for the stage. But now, with my sister knowing my feelings, the door is open to the cage.

And, I am afraid.

My hand dips forward, between the metal side railings of the bed. I clasp his hand, the only person in the world who seems to understand. To see, that I am not Aurelia. That...I'm not Tetsu, either. To love me for me, a me that I don't even know yet. He somehow sees me in the future, loving everything he sees. A me that is complete, a me who doesn't have to be ashamed. I showed him this version of myself in November. They are my favorite memories. Finally, the bird out of the cage. Unsure gender, but a smiling version of myself. A truly smiling version, nothing for show. No acting.

But, here he rests. He might go away from me. I know that. It makes me want to shrink away, like a bird who's head is under her wing. Shutting out the world, and pretending it's no longer there. If I can't see you, you can't see me.

There is something inside of me that is positive. Trying to smile in a breeze. Head turned upward, my fan to the sky, my knee bent outward, smiling a true smile. Still dancing. Dancing ahead in life, looking for his hand to dance with me. We can dance forward together, we are walking on the sky. We can go anywhere at all. As long as we're holding hands, we are flying. As long as I hold his hand, I can fly.

I won't drop his hand. I'll do anything to keep holding his hand. He makes me feel like it's okay to release my bird. That everything is going to be okay, there's no need to feel afraid. He'll understand, because he can already see who I am. I just have to open my eyes and turn my head in the same direction as his, and I will see what he sees.

He will not leave this world and turn off the sun. He would never leave me in darkness. He will fight, this I know. Our journey is not done yet. It is just beginning. He is not done leading me in the dance.

I woke up in my chair. Little movements were swirling on my hand. I jumped, and grabbed my phone from the table. I quickly flicked on the flashlight. His eyes were squinted in the sudden light, but he was smiling. His finger was twirling between my thumb and pointer finger.

I knew from so many other times, that I might have only mere seconds to tell him how much I love him. Being awake was too much for him. But, seeing him smiling so gently at me. His face so full of love. I had no words to say.

So, I got up and moved to him. The back of my hand went to his forehead, so softly. I swept it there slowly, over and over. He closed his eyes, smiling that gentle smile. I felt myself wobble inside. I wanted to kiss him, but the oxygen mask was over his mouth. So, I leaned over his sweet face, and kissed each eyelid, a butterfly landing on flowers. He sighed so beautifully.

"You can rest, it's okay," I said to him again, trying not to show him I wanted to cry. My throat was stuffy already. He didn't answer. I swept his forehead with the back of my hand again, over and over. "You're okay. Please heal yourself as you sleep. I'll watch over you. I'll never leave your side. I love you, my darling. I love you, I love you."

I couldn't let my true emotions show on my face. My wondering, if this was the last time I'd see that shy, sweet smile. My eyes were filling with tears, but he couldn't see it. My throat was filling with everything I wanted to say, so jumbled up and mixed together that I couldn't say it, so he wouldn't hear it. Only my hand, my touch, showed him my true feeling. How much I love him, this gentle love. My everything.

After a little while, still stroking his forehead, I breathed inward, my stuffed up throat making it shaky. A small sound through my nose came out as my throat pinched. A tear fell down. I cried, as he fell asleep again.

But. The swirling on my hand. His thumb. I brought his hand up to my lips. I kissed his still swirling thumb, and brought our hands to my cheek. I pressed them there, holding them there dearly.

"Are you still awake, my love?" I asked, realizing I could get barely more than a whisper out in my emotions. "Do you want to hear a story so you can sleep? I can tell you a story. Any story you like." I kissed his hand again, and pressed it to my cheek once more. He squeezed my hand a little. I found myself smiling at this. I kissed his hand again.

I thought for a moment. A bird. Thinking of my previous thoughts, before I knew he was awake. A bird.

"I'll tell you the story of Cygnus and Phaethon. Cygnus is currently in the sky, isn't he? I remember." I sniffled, and pressed his hand to my cheek. Holding it there, knowing he could feel every movement of my face, I began to tell him this story. The story of two lovers, and the boy who turned into a swan in his love.